


Sharp Smiles Hide Sharper Teeth

by MercySewerPyro



Series: Here There Be Dragons [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Discussions of slavery, Gen, Obi-Wan Kenobi has no idea what he's in for, cryptic bastards are cryptic, does this count as a slice of life?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:53:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23365744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercySewerPyro/pseuds/MercySewerPyro
Summary: A Separatist fleet lies destroyed, and the culprit is demanding some very unusual payment from the Republic. Of course, the Republic calls in General Kenobi.
Series: Here There Be Dragons [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1674430
Comments: 14
Kudos: 76





	Sharp Smiles Hide Sharper Teeth

When General Kenobi himself had been frantically called to take his mantle of Negotiator once more, he had expected Separatist dealings, or maybe another patience-testing encounter with Hondo Ohnaka. A tense stand-off with an enemy General, or - Force willing - a planet willing to talk about rejoining the Republic.

This… Was not what he had been expecting.

The debriefing was sparser than he had hoped, a datapad entry detailing a rather odd predicament: a small Republic fleet had encountered massive Separatist resistance in the Kalee system while on a reconnaissance mission, which had then chased down their retreating opponent and picked them off with ruthless efficiency. In any other situation, the Republic fleet would have been decimated; they had already lost two ships, and the remaining Venator had been heavily damaged.

They had been preparing to go down with the ship, wiping important fleet data from the ship’s databanks, when suddenly their unheard distress call had finally been answered. But not by another Republic fleet.

Instead, their mysterious saviors had demanded payment for their services, a price to be set after they had done their duty. The assigned Jedi General had hastily agreed, not thinking of the possibility it wouldn’t just be a matter of further reaching into the Republic’s already strained finances to pay off what he assumed were a couple pirates; instead he had only thought of the lives he could save, and Kenobi couldn’t fault him for that.

What transpired after that was not as well detailed. However, Obi-Wan knew that not all information was to be gathered from a simple report. The fleet had asked for help and help had arrived, swift and merciless. That much he knew for sure. Already stories were filtering out from the system from trooper to trooper, whispers of a ship black as night, larger than _ten_ Venator-classes and armed to the teeth. That alone was almost enough to fill in the blanks.

But Obi-Wan would have perhaps dismissed some of it as sheer exaggeration, if it weren’t for the fact the only thing left of that formidable Separatist fleet was space dust scattered from here to Courscant.

What _was_ confirmed, is that after the dust had settled their saviors had not demanded money, had not set a price in _credits_ on their assistance. Instead? They had demanded an entire battalion of clone troopers for themselves, and hung the threat of their ship brought to bear on the Republic for all to see when the General had reacted badly. He shook his head at the thought; really, the other General should have known. As the traders said, ‘sharp smiles hide sharper teeth’: a helping hand could merely be the precursor for something far more _under_ handed.

And now Kenobi was here, set to deal with a faction no one knew anything about. Graciously, they had let him pick the place to negotiate, a soft sort of too-knowing amusement in the liason’s voice when Obi-Wan had returned with his choice. Obi-Wan didn’t like it. Everything about this made him uneasy, and he knew Cody could feel it too; the trooper hadn’t left his side, tensed and ready, this entire time.

While there was no ship as large as described, a vessel similar to a Venator in size and shape had been waiting for them when they had arrived, just as void-black as the larger vessel had been. It had hailed them as soon as they had arrived, letting Kenobi - and _specifically_ his Commander, interestingly enough - know they were sending over a shuttle.

Standing in the hangar of his own lesser ship - he would never risk _The Negotiator_ on something like this - not far from the system where this had all began, Kenobi waited for their guests. His best troopers ringed him uneasily, and he could sympathize with their wary caution; this was something new, and the demanding of some of their own was unprecedented and _worrying._

Thankfully, they did not have to wait long. The sleek, dark shape of the shuttle emerged from the black of space and folded its wings to land. The type made him blink a little; it was similar in design to a Theta-class and yet completely different, its profile sharper, with a larger cockpit and wings, particularly the one atop it. Without watching, he could sense his troopers grouping tighter around him, and Cody returning to his place at his shoulder. He could also sense… An odd sort of darkness around the ship, dark without being Dark.

But before he could further explore the feeling, the ramp lowered, and their representative exited. He had only four escorts, and Kenobi could feel his troops’ shock - intermixing with his own - at their full-body armour. The two at the rear, the two who stopped at the end of the ramp and went no further, were in sets so black they seemed to nearly be carved as part of the void itself, and the angles were sharp and harsh. The helmets were skull-like, obviously to intimidate as they protected their leader’s vessel.

But the other three, the representative included… Wore clone trooper armour, that void black marked with individualized sweeps of red. It was obviously heavily modified in its design, and Obi-Wan didn’t think it was made of the same plastoid-alloy his own men wore, but he would recognize that T-visor anywhere. The leader even wore a pauldron and kama, their helmet including an antenna much like Captain Rex’s.

Even their weapons seemed similar; the representative didn’t seem to have one, but the blaster three of his escorts carried was eerily reminiscent of a DC-15A much like the ones his 212th carried. The last seemed to have some kind of crossbow slung over his shoulder, as blood red as his armour markings.

But the representative and his now only two escorts gave a low bow to Kenobi, and the voice that came out wasn’t a clone’s at all. “It is a pleasure to meet you, General Obi-Wan Kenobi. My name is High Commander Mir.”

Without even an indication from their High Commander, his two escorts stand forward in complete sync to introduce themselves in turn. Kenobi raises an eyebrow at their unison, glancing briefly to Cody. There’s something odd in the Force about their guests, and he can’t quite put his finger on it.

“Sergeant Rin.”

“Private Gauge.”

And just like that, they return to formation. Inwardly, careful to not let it reach his face, Kenobi frowns a little. They don’t sound like clones, but their names are very similar to theirs… He has to wonder why.

Outwardly though, he merely returns the greeting with a small bow of his own. “It is a pleasure to meet you too, High Commander. I apologize for the rocky start this has been; the Jedi you were initially in contact with is… Not known for being particularly diplomatic.”

Mir chuckles, but there’s still something about it that puts Obi-Wan ill at ease. “Then we’ll have to see how you fare in his stead, hm?”

Kenobi simply inclines his head at that. “Follow me. We have a room set up for our negotiations this way.”

As they head towards the meeting room, Kenobi is keeping a close eye on them, and he knows Cody is doing the same. They aren’t particularly interested in looking around it seems, and they stay in tight, regimented formation; all three of them are soldiers, and it shows. The same lowercase dark seems to permeate them too, and Obi-Wan hopes that it doesn’t mean something troubling. He just wishes he could figure out what he’s feeling from them.

But, to keep the silence from becoming too much, he remarks mildly, “I don’t think I’ve ever dealt with your kind before, High Commander. Would it be too much of me to ask what you’re High Commander _of?”_

“Not at all, General.” There’s something odd in the Force there, just a flicker. There and gone before Obi-Wan can understand it. “We are Daehirrim. I don’t expect you to know that name; we don’t often deal with anyone, Republic or otherwise.”

“And yet you came to the rescue of a Republic vessel?”

“We trade our services. This is about payment, after all.”

Obi-Wan can feel his eyebrow raising again as he looks to the High Commander. “So you stay neutral? I mean no offence, High Commander, but neutrality is not something the Separatists care about. Particularly when you’ve made such short work of their fleets.”

Mir’s escorts laugh quietly, and Obi-Wan can’t help but wonder what he’s said that’s so funny to them. Even Mir lets out a quiet chuckle. “They can’t hurt us. And neither can your Republic, General.”

There is something deeply, deeply chilling about those words. It sounds like a promise and a threat all at once.

But they arrive at the meeting room almost all too soon, and Obi-Wan allows Mir to take his seat first at one end of the table. His bodyguards don’t sit, as expected; instead, they stand either side of the High Commander, just as Cody stands to his General’s side when Obi-Wan takes his own seat.

He lets out a sigh, and gets right to business, keeping his voice light but cautious. “High Commander, I must ask: what do you want with an entire battalion of troopers? Surely your military might is already impressive enough, with what’s left of that Separatist fleet.”

“That is true,” the High Commander concedes. “But we don’t take monetary payment. We have no need for your credits, and we know your technology far too well to ask for that. Troops are a perfect payment.”

Kenobi raises an eyebrow. They don’t take credits? What kind of group is this? “They are not ours to give away, High Commander.”

“Are they not?” Mir asks mildly. “Last I heard, your Republic _bought_ them, General. That makes them yours.”

“They are not _slaves,_ High Commander.”

“Are you sure?” There is sudden steel there, and Obi-Wan blinks. “You bought them. They have no rights, and the Republic doesn’t consider them citizens. Marshal Commander, are you paid?”

Cody pauses, looking from Obi-Wan to Mir, swallowing at the former’s small frown. “No. No I’m not.”

“See? It becomes a simple transaction.”

Obi-Wan sighs, unable to help the irritation itching away under his skin. “High Commander, I will not give you slaves and it is _not_ a mere ‘transaction’, no matter _what_ the Republic’s current stance on clone rights is.”

The High Commander _rumbles,_ a low sound that’s more felt than heard, deep and predatory. “You assume too much, _General._ ” He stands, and again there is that spark in the Force, sliding… Between Mir and his escorts? “Among us, the clones are _equal._ Unlike with you and your precious Republic.”

Obi-Wan pauses, and leans back into his seat. Cody moves forward then, and Obi-Wan sends a wave of gratitude for the defence even before the rebuttal comes out of the Commander’s mouth. “General Kenobi _does_ see us as equal, High Commander. If it were in his power, I know he would make each and every one of us citizens in a heartbeat.”

“Do you trust him, Marshal Commander?”

“With my life.”

Mir seems to consider this, then sighs, slowly returning to his seat. There’s that spark again, and Obi-Wan is ever more concerned about what it means. “...I wouldn’t take you from your General, Commander Cody.”

Cody blinks, sharing a look with Obi-Wan. They hadn’t told this High Commander his name.

“But my intention is to free troopers, not chain them further,” Mir continues. “I won’t take from your 212th; I am aware they are dear to you, General. But our need for payment still stands; your Jedi agreed, and the bargain must be upheld. And if it frees a few troopers, isn’t it all for the better?”

Obi-Wan nods slowly, though the frown doesn’t leave his face. He can’t believe he’s even considering this. “...I don’t know how much my superiors would agree to this. And we still need our men for this war.”

“I don’t know if any would want to leave, sir,” Cody near-mutters. “We are loyal to the Republic.”

“You are,” Mir accepts with a dip of his head. “...But I can adjust the deal. A company. A hundred and forty-four, instead of a full battalion.”

Even as Obi-Wan wonders, thinks on what troopers would even want to leave and claim this taste of freedom, he gets the sinking feeling a company was all the High Commander wanted in the first place. “How do I know that you’re going to keep your word, and that they’ll be free?”

“Gauge? Rin?”

Two sets of helmets come off in that perfect unison, and their faces- The _both_ of them are clone troopers. Cody stiffens by his side, and Kenobi can sense the shock from the rest of the 212th around him. Rin is wearing his hair in a braid that is certainly not regulation, and he flashes them all a wink. Gauge is a little more stoic, hair regulation-standard but the tattoo of a black and red dragon on his face decidedly not.

Mir only laughs. “We are a military faction. But don’t you see? We take care of our own. This I swear to you, on _Rauhir’s_ blood.”

There’s a power in that oath, and Obi-Wan decides he can trust it, even as his troopers whisper among themselves over private comms. But perhaps he does not trust the bodyguard’s faces. They are clone troopers, in that he is certain, but… Something whispers to him in the Force, and there is an impression of something wrapped around them, diverting attention from something.

From…

He’s not sure. But somehow, while he feels he cannot fully trust these Daehirrim, he feels they are truthful about this. They are clone troopers, and they will take care of their own.

So, ignoring Cody’s look of concern, he takes a deep breath, and gets to the difficult work of finding them clones who wouldn’t mind a reassignment.

It takes them a seven-day week to do it, plus a few careful suggestions by High Commander Mir that imply to Obi-Wan that the Daehirrim (Daehir? He’s not sure if it’s plural or not) knows far more about the civil war than he’s divulging. In the end, they send out the word for volunteers, with particular focus on specific groupings. Obi-Wan is not sure why Mir insisted so much for recruiting from General Pong Krell’s forces, but in a surprisingly short amount of time they have acquired enough volunteers for an entire company. The sense of smug satisfaction from around their mysterious guests seems to imply they knew there would be.

He’s not sure what to think of that.

Looking over the list of volunteers, Mir remarks, “I think it would be appropriate if they were to assemble at these same coordinates, as soon as they’re ready. Is that alright, General?”

Kenobi nods, stroking his beard. This was going to be interesting to actually organize. “I agree. I suppose this is where we part ways then, at least until they’re ready. I’ll keep you up to date on how things are going.”

Mir nods with a knowing hum. “I know you will, General Kenobi. The Negotiator keeps his word, and we keep ours.” Without even a nod, his bodyguards are suddenly stepping into place beside him, ready to leave. They’re scarily well coordinated, and Obi-Wan quietly wonders as they bow to him why they have never come into contact with such a force before.

With the escorts’ helmets still off, he’s tempted to peer past that veil still clinging so firmly to them. There’s something so strange about them, these Force-sparks between them and how they carry themselves, and he’s not sure if it’s a good thing or a bad thing.

He knows Cody doesn’t trust them, and he’s not inclined to either. Not completely.

As they again reach the hangar, the two Daehirrim at the end of the ship straighten even before they fully see the representative, standing aside so he can actually board. High Commander Mir turns back towards Obi-Wan, and he can almost hear the other’s smile as he speaks, “Until we meet again, Kenobi.”

And then he turns away, and starts up the ramp. Obi-Wan wonders if he will ever actually see the High Commander again, still uneasy as he watches the man disappear. This may be his last chance, and he almost cannot help how he inspects that veil again, careful to not disturb it. The bodyguards follow, two by two, but… Rin pauses. Rin _notices._

He turns back, locking eyes with Kenobi, and suddenly the veil drops, just for him. It _was_ a cover, expertly woven, diverting him from something his clone troopers still can’t see in the Daehir’s face.

From-

Rin grins, wide and challenging, and Obi-Wan Kenobi pales at the sight of the truth. That one moment is enough, and Rin turns away, following his fellow escorts up the ramp and out of sight with all the sure confidence of an apex predator.

Sharp smiles hide sharper teeth.

And that trooper’s smile had been _full_ of them.

_What in all the galaxy had he invited onto his ship?_

**Author's Note:**

> _Is a dragon a dragon if it doesn't have a dragon's face?_
> 
> Whoever can tell me what the language the word they're using for themselves is - and knows what it means! - gets a cookie.


End file.
